Not too many moons ago, Sarah and Dorothy and Sam and Peter and I knew the thrill of having the singer-songwriter, Will Marsh in the house for a few days. Quietly social, keenly observant, and wittily bemused he was, especially when we put a question to him, but all of this took on a very different hue when he consented to open for Bulb in the basement that is the Bank Gallery. He does that thing—Aimee Mann does it, as does Beck—where he goes vulnerable to the point of self-deprecation to the point of funny to the point of liberating for everyone paying attention. I got some words of explanation out of him later on: “It's a long-held belief of mine that some mode of desperation is at the heart of all great rock music.”
There was an exceedingly fantastic item on hand, The Berlin Etc. EP, at the time, and I’m very pleased to offer up a signal flare for a full-length situation at this time. Wander over thisaway to spy the lyrical campaign in which he explains himself. And I believe you might find him at least persuasive as we have. Get in on the act. It’s a win for everyone. Cast your vote today.